


"Your move, Dad"

by captaintinymite (augopher)



Series: Belief is a Two Way Street [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Season/Series 05 Spoilers, Stilinski Family Feels, reaction to season 5 episode 3, stiles is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 11:50:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4303872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/augopher/pseuds/captaintinymite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course, the little jabs his dad made at his expense--things like how he trusted Scott and didn't believe anything Stiles sad, "Son I should've had"-- were jokes. Too bad, Stiles didn't see them that way.</p><p>In response to the opening scene of season 5 episode 3</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Your move, Dad"

**Author's Note:**

> In response to [this](http://ionaonie.tumblr.com/post/123587196577/athenadark-keire-ke-stilestold-bonus) post and comment by [ionaonie](http://www.ionaonie.tumblr.com)

Stiles stared up at his bedroom ceiling, listening to the rain pelt his window. His head pounded. Too much had happened in the last 48 hours, and he just couldn’t handle it. **  
**

Another kanima. He gave a pained chuckle, his chest constricting. He would have thought being paralyzed from the neck down a third time would be less traumatizing.

It wasn’t. In fact, this time was somehow worse than the first time. Maybe because he wasn’t trapped alone in that room with Tracey the way he had been at the garage after Jackson killed the mechanic, Tucker. He honestly thought that this time he was a goner, his friends too.  _Wow Stiles, your sense of self-preservation really is almost non-existent._

Of course, Stiles would have done anything to save them, just like he’d done that night at the police station. He’d wanted so desperately to be able to work that venom out of his system so he could stop Matt and save his dad, Melissa too.

As usual, Stiles was just not strong enough, not powerful enough, not smart enough…just not enough.

He scrubbed his face with his hands before offering up a shout of frustration to his empty bedroom.  _Just forget about it, Stiles. Let it roll off your back like everything else._ He shook his head at the lie he wished he could believe. The truth was, he hadn’t let something roll off his back in years, choosing instead, to push it down as far as he could. If he was being honest with himself, there wasn’t much space left in which to bottle things up. He was so near his breaking point, he’d laugh if it wasn’t so depressing.

Bone-deep weary, he trudged downstairs for a snack before bed. The house was empty…again. Not that he expected anything else. For years, it had been his father’s work that kept Stiles alone in the house more often than not. Now that his dad was easing his way back into dating, Stiles imagined he’d see even less of the guy. It was better that way, Stiles thought. Better that his dad wasn’t around him often. It left less of a chance for Stiles to continue fucking things up. Better that the man had more time to spend with people he obviously felt deserved his attention more.

As he opened the fridge door, Stiles felt his resolve crumble. “Fuck!” He slammed the door so hard the dishes in the cupboard rattled, and he slid down to the floor in a crumpled heap. Hot, fat tears rolled down his face. Why couldn’t he have gone to look for that body alone? Why hadn’t he said yes to Peter’s offer? Hell, why hadn’t he begged Derek for the bite?

Then he’d be the one his dad turned to for help, the one he trus- Oh, who the hell was he kidding? Even as a werewolf, his father would still prefer Scott. After all, he hadn’t trusted a word Stiles said since he first started talking. How would being a werewolf change a damn thing?

Stiles fought for air, as his broken sobs filled the kitchen, echoing throughout the house. _Fine time to have a panic attack, when no one is around to talk you through it_. His quick breathing soon turned frantic as all the calming techniques he knew failed to work, and in no time, he passed out.

  


***

  


The chiming clock in the living room eventually brought him to his senses, and Stiles craned his head towards the microwave and the glowing green numbers of its clock. Two thirty. Still exhausted and with a crick in his neck, he plodded up the stairs, collapsing onto his bed.

From where it sat on his nightstand, Stiles could see the blinking light of his phone, alerting him to unread text messages. He wanted to ignore them, but as usual, his curiosity got the better of him. As soon as he unlocked the screen, he wished he hadn’t.

**From: Pops**

**22:23**

**Message me and let me know you get home all right.**

**  
**

**From: Pops**

**23:05**

**Stiles, you’re not out past curfew are you? For once, could you leave the Supernatural shenanigans to someone else?**  


  


**From: Pops**

**00:12**

**Stiles, Scott returned my message. He says you’re not with him. You’d better be at home asleep. I’m not bailing you out of trouble again if you’re not.**

  


“Gee, thanks, Dad. Nice to know you’re concerned with my safety as opposed to whether or not I’m getting into trouble. I’m surprised Scott didn’t tell  you I was at home, because I sure as hell told him I was going home.” He sighed. “Once again. No one listens to me.”

He flung his phone across the room in a fit of rage where it crashed against the wall.

“Great, just great. Probably need a new one now. Gah!” He grabbed his spare pillow at covered his face with it. He was too tired to deal with this shit tonight and let himself drift off to sleep.

  


***

  


“No, Dad, I’m telling you, he’s suspicious.”

“I’m aware of your grudge against the guy, Stiles, but I can’t arrest someone on the hunches and amateur sleuthing of a seventeen year old who is too curious for his own good! We’ve been over this how many times now? When are you going to get that through your head?”

Stiles chewed on his thumbnail. “Eighteen.”

His dad raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t follow.”

“Birthday was last week. We were supposed to have dinner. Work got in the way.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy with work and these stupid Doctors. I must have forg-”

Stiles waved him off. “It’s okay.”  _Same excuse different year._  “Fine, just keep an eye on the guy or something. I’m telling you he has a connection.” He turned and began walking out of his father’s office.

“Keep your nose out of it. Stiles, leave it to the professionals.”  

On his way out of the station, Stiles walked past Scott. “Hey, Scotty. What’re you doing here? I told you I’d meet you at the diner.”

“I’m gonna be a little late. Your dad has something he wants me to look into.”

Stiles furrowed his brow. “Wha- Why didn’t he say anything to me? I was just in there.”

Scott shrugged. “Dunno. He just asked for my help. Anyway, catch you at the restaurant?”

“Yeah. See ya.”

As he watched his best friend walk through the station doors, Stiles worried his bottom lip between his teeth. _What do I have to do, Dad?”_

  


***

  


Stiles tossed and turned in his bed, hands clutching at his blankets. The deep furrow of his brow and the rigidity of his posture said everything his sleeping form couldn’t: His sleep was far from restful.

_Stiles watched his father stumble around the party, a bottle of Jack in one hand._

_“How the hell am I supposed to raise this stupid kid on my own”_

_“Dad, just listen. Trus-”_

_“Trust you? Same old song and dance with you. Why can’t you just go to school, play lacrosse, and come home like a normal seventee-”_

_“Eighteen.”_

_“Then you better curb your delinquencies. I can’t wipe trespassing off your record anymore, now can I?”_

_  
_

Stiles had kicked the covers off and curled himself into a ball. Despite being fast asleep, he clamped his hands over his ears. “Just stop it, Dad. I can’t listen any-” A choked off sob escaped his throat; the fabric of his pillowcase growing wet beneath his cheek.

  


_No longer staring at just one version of his dad, Stiles shrunk in on himself as he found himself surrounded by dozens of copies of the man, each one yelling something different. Their harsh and cruel words blending together in a cacophonous chorus._

_“Son I should’ve had.”_

_“Hyperactive little bastard…”_

_“I’m going to hobble you!”_

_“…every time you have a minor suspicion.”_

_“I haven’t believed a word Stiles has said-”_

_“I am listening! I’ve been listening.”_

_“-keeps ruining my life!”_

_Like a faulty record player, the needle stuck at the same spot, his father’s last words kept repeating over and over._

_“-keeps ruining my life!”_

_“-keeps ruining my life!”_

_“-keeps ruining my life!”_

_Stiles screwed his eyes shut as if that would make the man disappear. “Stop. Would you just stop!”_

_  
_

With a jolt, Stiles woke up on the floor, the impact of flinging himself out of bed brought him out of his nightmare. Full on weeping and body shaking so hard he felt like an earthquake, he fumbled around on his desk for his keys.

He almost fell down the stairs as he staggered towards the front door and out to the driveway. He just needed to get away.

  


***

  


Stiles squinted in the harsh beam of the flashlight suddenly shining in his face. With one hand he shielded his eyes to see who it was, and with the other, he hastily wiped his face. As if that would conceal the fact he’d been bawling his eyes out in the middle of the Beacon Hills Cemetery for the last hour.

Great.  _Well hey, Dad. Remember that trespassing comment. Looks like I’m about to disappoint you…again._ He scratched his eyebrow. Wait, that had been part of his nightmare. Or…no, he was fairly certain he’d been talked to about trespassing at least twice by the man.

“Stiles, what the hell are you doing out here at one in the morning?

He folded his arms across his chest. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“So you decided to drive across town and break into the cemetery?”

Stiles’ stomach churned at his father’s tone. “Sorry. Had a nightmare, was pretty out of it. Made a poor decision. Look, I didn’t cut a lock. I just climbed a fence. I didn’t hurt anything. I just-”

His father groaned. “Stiles, rules exist for a reason. You can’t just disregard the ones you don’t agree with just because you’re my son!”

Stiles’ lip quivered. “Noted. But hey, at least you’ve got Scott. You could always adopt him. Paragon of morality that one. He’ll follow all the rules you want. But not me. No, I’m just the hyperactive little bastard who keeps ruining your life.” He pushed himself to his feet and trudged towards the gate.

“I never said that.”

Stiles spun on his heel. “You didn’t have to. All those little comments you say, when you think you’re being funny, add up. I’m not someone you trust or can believe, even when I am telling you with absolute certainty your life is in danger. I’m a delinquent with behavioral problems. I’m a hero because I managed to win a lacrosse game, but not because I’m smart, or brave, or loyal. No, but because ONE time in ONE game, I managed to score a goal. I’m not the son you should’ve had but I’m the one you got stuck with! All those things have a way of cutting like a knife.”

His dad looked like he’d been slapped. “You…never told me any of that bothered you. I…”

“Even if I had, would you have believed me?” When his father remained standing in stunned silence, Stiles scoffed. “That’s what I thought.”

Feeling sick to his stomach, Stiles shook his head and walked to his jeep. After a few attempts to start it, the engine finally turned over and headed home. He’d said his piece, opened his dad’s eyes to the way the man’s words could hurt.

The ball was his father’s court now.  _Your move, Dad. Your move._  


 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on Tumblr [x](http://www.captaintinymite.tumblr.com)


End file.
